


meet gasoline

by macabre



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Femslash, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 10:56:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8841847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macabre/pseuds/macabre
Summary: Natasha meets Sharon when she's dying, like some sort of angel. 
But really, this is fluffy PWP.





	

Natasha meets Sharon Carter when the other woman is called in on an extraction. Natasha’s been in deep for weeks in a country she swore never to return to, and it’s literally gone to hell before SHIELD can intervene, so she can’t really blame anyone but herself.

The building is in shambles around her - there’s a fire sweeping up the halls and spreading downward, there have been multiple explosions of smaller hand grenades, but she knows if she doesn’t get out of there fast, the whole building will come down on her in one giant blow.

She’s not going to make it to the ground floor, so she jumps, then stumbles her way down a few flights of stairs. When they start shaking under her feet, she thrusts her body against the next exit door, finds the closest window and throws herself out of it. 

Later she’ll find out it was the third floor - not bad, given that she had started on the twenty-second floor when the fire started - but dropping out of the third floor and rolling to safety as quickly as possible still hurts like hell, but it’s not until she’s tossed herself over a larger slab of cement that she feels it - something catches her in the stomach that’s falling from the building as it blows. 

She was injured before, but now she’s dying. 

And she knows it.

There’s no place left to escape, she can only lie there as her breathing comes quicker and quicker. She can’t move, can’t feel her feet or hands. There’s a strange noise in her ears - like bubbles? - and she can feel blood gush out of her mouth. 

She can’t breath anymore. She’s literally drowning in her own blood. 

She’s not sure when she appears, because Natasha’s vision swims in and out, the bright sky fading into all white light then out into a silhouette again. One moment, it’s just clouds, the next a blonde is leaning over her. 

She’s saying something to her - her lips are moving - and maybe Natasha realizes she looks familiar, in the same way the prey realizes there is a predator out there somewhere - but she never hears anything over the roar in her skull.

Natasha feels something physically give within her, and then the woman above her is bloody. There is blood in her teeth, she realizes, on her lips. Her lips are too red and her hair is too blonde. She ducks out of her field of vision again, pops back up after a moment, and she spits blood over their sides. Her blood, Natasha realizes. 

She can breath again.

She still doesn’t expect to live.

When she comes to a few days later, Fury debriefs her himself. Agent Carter found her in the field and saved her life by opening her airways, hence why she has the tube in her throat now. 

“I remember -” Natasha wants to say, but what can she remember? Her blood on Carter’s lips. Like a vampire. 

And well. She can’t really talk with the tube in. 

Fury watches her internal struggle, or whatever he sees in that eye. “She cut a hole in your throat and sucked the blood out with a straw.”

Well. She doesn’t have much to say about that, even if she could, except she wonders what that tasted like. To taste so much blood. Carter is lucky Natasha’s completely clean - she’s heard of people contracting diseases from such measures before, simply to fade away slowly. 

“Rest up, Romanov.”

They take out the tube and she’s released from the hospital a couple weeks later. Far too long to spend in a bed. The only amusement she had was Steve Rogers visiting twice, quietly sighing in the corner chair as if he didn’t know why he was there either. He doesn’t seem up to their usual chatter when it’s all one-sided. 

Outside of the hospital she’s given further leave to heal. Her voice is sore and hard to listen to - the fear that any time she opens her mouth her throat might slide right open again, and there will be blood on her hardwood floors haunts her. 

Natasha is not an irrational woman, but she falls asleep with her hand on her throat anyway. She dreams and remembers them for once - she sees a blonde woman, red between the cracks of her teeth - and she sees her push Natasha down.

Of course, she knows just where to find Carter when she wants to. She waits until it’s late enough that couples are stumbling out, arms all over each other, when Natasha enters through the exterior cloud of smoke into the club. It’s packed with women, sweating and glistening under neon lights. Carter’s light hair bounces the colors off it just so it’s a beacon, a lighthouse in the middle of the dance floor. She’s already dancing with some petite brunette when Natasha slides up to her.

Carter notices her without making Natasha aware of it. “It’s good to see you on your feet again.”

Natasha doesn’t respond, but slides up closer, flush against the taller woman’s body. Her original dance partner scoffs openly at her, but she disappears anyway. 

“How are you feeling?”

But Natasha didn’t come here to talk; keeping eye contact with her the entire time, she puts her hands on her hips and slides them up. Carter smiles. 

“I guess there’s something I can still help you with then.”

They dance a little longer; in any other instance, Natasha would have suggested they leave immediately, but she doesn’t open her mouth, and Carter’s coy smile tells her she’s enjoying making her wait. She watches Carter drink some more, but Natasha refrains, but everywhere she goes and every which way Carter twists, Natasha pushes herself against her. 

She can feel the lacy underwear under her tight skirt - it’s something full bodied and thick, delicate. If she touches Carter’s back, she imagines the bra is a match. Her loose curls bounce down around Natasha’s nose so she can smell something floral and sweet, and her legs bounce against her, soft and slick. 

It’s Carter who pushes her against a wall before they leave, who puts her mouth on hers. The dancing has been enough foreplay, she supposes, because Carter wastes no time putting her tongue in her mouth and slipping a thigh between Natasha’s. 

She’s taller than Natasha, so she has to stretch herself up into the kisses, bring her down with a hand around the back of her neck. Carter moans, but it’s a delicate thing, barely audible over the music. She breaks away to kiss gingerly at the new scar on Natasha’s neck.

“Let’s go.”

Carter’s hands never leave Natasha’s body on the ride home. She drives her to her place with the redhead in the passenger seat, and her hand is on her thigh. They sneak a filthy kiss here or there, at a light or when no one’s around, then her hand is inching north, under her tight black dress so it has to be pushed up with her hand.

There’s one finger teasing her now. 

“Well, you were certainly sure of yourself.” Carter laughs, rubbing that finger gently over Natasha’s wet folds. She smirks and can’t help but throw her head back. 

She has no idea where Carter lives, so they’re driving for much longer than Natasha would prefer. It’s long enough that Natasha squirms in her seat, lifting her hips enough that she can press down on that one finger. 

“Jesus.”

It’s shortly after that they park, which Natasha is only distantly aware of, and Carter throws herself on her over the driving stick, thrusting her mouth on her but withdrawing her hand. Natasha growls and Carter just keeps laughing. 

Her hand has a slight glisten to it when she lifts it to her mouth and licks it. “It’s sweet.” Natasha thinks again of how this woman drank her blood.

They fall out of the car and into her home. In the dark, they enter through a kitchen and stumble into a bedroom that is surprisingly sparse. Bed, dresser. It smells clean other than a familiar sweet scent that’s blooming. 

Natasha pushes her down and climbs on top. There is little pretense this time, Carter’s hands lifting her dress around her waist and briefly rubbing her a few times before she sticks two fingers in this time. She pulls away from their kissing to watch Natasha’s face, checking on her she supposes, but Natasha greedily plunges down on top of her hand, trapping it between them. 

She fucks herself readily, working herself downwards a little so she might stimulate Carter, rocking her own hand against her clit where it’s trapped now. Carter is moaning, louder this time, and Natasha swallows them down. 

When she comes, Natasha’s voice startles the both of them. It’s not a pretty sound, not like Carter’s, but it makes her smile away. She slumps over on top of the blonde, panting on her neck. She still smells the sweetest.

She’s not allowed to rest for long. Carter flips her over onto her back, quickly enough it shows off her training, then kisses her again. Natasha moves her hands towards Carter to get her off, but she pins both her hands above her head. 

“I’m not finished.” She pulls Natasha up briefly so she can removed her dress. There is nothing else to remove. 

“You’re gorgeous.” It’s such a petty thing, Natasha thinks, to say to her, but she can hear how genuine this woman means to be. She lets her push her legs up and out a little while she sucks a nipple in, her lower body gently moving against her still. Natasha almost feels embarrassed at the dark spot growing on the bottom of Carter’s top. 

When her blonde head ducks down, Natasha again perversely thinks this is not the first time Carter has eaten her, but it is a different experience for sure. She pushes her lips against Natasha’s lower lips, moves her head back and forth as if to open her up, then licks. And licks and licks.

The bed creaks under them as she picks up her pace, Natasha’s head thrown back, her back arching. Her nerves are still tingling from the first orgasm, never having come down, and now she’s being ramped back up. She gets one hand free and blindly grasps for blonde curls, then squeezes her nails against the scalp to hear Carter moan into her body. 

This time, her voice is louder, stronger when she comes. Her legs feel like jelly compared to the rest of her body - which is fire - so they slip down around Carter’s shoulders where she looks up at her and wipes her mouth on the back of her hand, raising an eyebrow. She gently lies Natasha’s legs out straight on the bed for her and slinks back up to her. 

“Are you okay?”

Natasha nods.

“Because you’ve got this dazed look about you.” She smiles, and Natasha swats at her playfully, grabbing her by the front of her shirt and pulling her down into another kiss.

She starts to push Carter onto her back, but she resists, gently laying on top of Natasha. “Hey, just relax.” She traces the line over Natasha’s throat with her fingertip, then traces it with her tongue. “You can let someone take care of just you for once.”

Natasha doesn’t say it, of course, but Carter has done more than her fair share of taking care of her, and for a moment she almost feels guilty about bombarding the other woman tonight. But then she sits up to pull off her clothing, and Natasha gets to admire the lacy underwear finally. It’s purple and looks perfect on her skin. 

“Come here.” She gently guides Natasha further up the bed and under the covers. This time Carter does lie back, and lets Natasha fold herself into warm skin. Now, it smells floral and distinctly feminine. It makes Natasha’s possessive side purr a little. She licks a stripe up Carter’s jaw. She lays her head back down against her collarbone, and Carter runs her fingers through her hair. 

The past month has left Natasha doing surprisingly little, so the night has taken more out of her than she cares to admit. Almost immediately, she feels her eyes growing heavy under the petting hand. Carter kisses her forehead sweetly and pulls up the covers a little higher. 

In the morning, Natasha gets breakfast in bed, as if Carter needs to do anything else. She pushes her back any time she tries to get up, even hand feeds her orange slices as she peels them. They drink coffee together and Carter tells her some amusing stories that have happened recently in her department.

“Maybe I should have made you tea for your throat, hm?”

They’ve showered, and Natasha’s put on her rather wrecked dress from the previous night. She’s toweling off her hair, thinking of getting home. 

“I hadn’t realized you couldn’t speak yet,” she says, pulling out fresh new underwear, her ass bending over in front of Natasha, sitting on the bed. “I was so careful, you know, if they fucked up your vocal cords it was all them in surgery.”

“I -” Natasha’s voice croaks. “I can -”

And the look Carter gives her is so sweet, so unduly fair that Natasha shrinks a little. Carter immediately moves to sit on her lap, swinging her mostly nude body in her face. She’s also unduly gorgeous. 

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to say a word.” She smiles. “We got by alright last night, didn’t we?”

She treats Natasha like nothing short of a proper girlfriend, but Natasha feels some lingering guilt and doubt about last night. She decides to flee before she can properly sort out her mess, but not before Carter catches her wrist and looms over her, forcing her back against the front door. 

“You should say hi next time.” Her eyes are still lingering over the scar, as if it was a possessive mark the entire time. “You know - whenever you feel up to it again.”

**Author's Note:**

> The scene of Sharon sucking out the blood through a straw is inspired/stolen from Der Krieger und Die Kaiserin, which is a fantastic movie. Just saying.


End file.
